


the beyond in us (she is)

by lettersfromnowhere



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Day 1: Hidden Gems, F/M, Fluff, Pregnancy, ZFAW, Zutara Fanwork Appreciation Week, Zutara Fanworks Appreciation Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:29:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27667514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersfromnowhere/pseuds/lettersfromnowhere
Summary: “You may be fine, but I can still worry about you if I want.” Zuko would usually nudge her with his elbow but, out of the abundance of caution that’s been driving her mad lately, he merely gives her a pointed look. “I think I’ve earned the right.”A 'deleted scene'/extension of @InkWelled's "Hostage of Promised Weal," written for Day 1 (Hidden Gems) of Zutara Fanworks Appreciation Week.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 63





	the beyond in us (she is)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [burnshoney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnshoney/gifts).
  * Inspired by [hostage of promised weal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20874137) by [burnshoney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnshoney/pseuds/burnshoney). 



> Oh my gosh.   
> I invented a fan week. I'm writing things for said fan week. I get to yell about my all-time favorite Zutara fanfic (criminally. freaking. underrated) because of the fan week I invented! I LOVE DOING THINGS. Anyways, guys, stan Hostage of Promised Weal for clear skin. It's my all-time favorite, one of my most influential writing inspirations (you can definitely see a lot of attempts to imitate Inkwelled's prose style in my writing if you squint, though I'm not nearly as gifted at making words pretty), and my go-to comfort fic. I have to have read it at least thirty times now, and I'm still as in love with - and in awe of - HPW now as I was the first time I read it. I can't say that I did it justice here, but I did my absolute best. So...please enjoy this little extension oneshot. 
> 
> Happy ZFAW, everyone.

“Darling, you really don’t need to hover. I’m fine.” 

All Katara gets from Zuko for her efforts is a glare. “I’m not  _ hovering.”  _

She takes the hand that rests at the small of her back and pulls it back around so it swings at his side, clasped in hers. “You’re hovering. And you  _ shouldn’t  _ be. I’m fine.” 

“You may be fine, but I can still worry about you if I want.” Zuko would usually nudge her with his elbow but, out of the abundance of caution that’s been driving her mad lately, he merely gives her a pointed look. “I think I’ve earned the right.” 

“Hm. If you insist,” Katara huffs, entirely unconvinced. With her free hand, she absentmindedly rubs the prominent swell of her stomach as they walk, fingers intertwined. “But I still maintain that I’m perfectly fine.” 

“That you may be, but I’m not taking any chances,” Zuko insists, so earnest that Katara’s eyes crinkle at the corners and she laughs, in spite of her irritation. 

  
“Well, I could do without the constant worrying, but the pampering is nice,” she concedes. “Speaking of which, my feet are tired.” 

Immediately, Zuko’s eyes widen in alarm, and Katara cannot help but laugh. “Why didn’t you tell me?!?” he asks, his voice pitching hilariously upwards. “You should be resting if you’re tired!” 

Katara stops, dropping his hand, and crosses her arms atop her stomach. “Zuko, I won a war when I was fourteen. I’m not going to rush off to bed because my feet hurt.” 

“But you need to be careful!” 

“With what?” Katara’s arms uncross and she lifts them in a helpless shrug. “It’s not as if I’m in any danger just because my ankles are a little swollen. Every woman with children has had to deal with sore ankles and most of them turned out fine.” 

“I just want you to take care of yourself.” Katara falls into step beside Zuko again, and he offers his arm; she gladly takes it, leaning into his firebender’s warmth without even thinking about it. “I’m...sorry if I tend to overreact-”

“ _ If?”  _

He looks like a disgruntled cat-owl when he admits, “okay,  _ that.  _ I’m sorry  _ that  _ I tend to overreact.” 

“Better.” Katara rewards him with a light squeeze of his forearm. “Now, you were saying?” 

“I just...I don’t know what I’m doing, Katara.” Katara cannot see Zuko’s face from this angle but she can read it in his voice. “This seems like the only thing I  _ can  _ do.” 

Katara’s face softens, and she leans a little closer. “You don’t need to do anything, Zuko.” 

Of course, she doesn’t expect the words to placate him; she knows - they’ve discussed at length - how nervous fatherhood makes her husband, and now she can see how he hovers because he feels as if, by doing so, he might be able to convince a fraction of himself that he is up to the task of raising a child. But he does not  _ need  _ to prove himself, not to her; she has never had anything but the utmost confidence in him, in how he’ll rise to the challenge. 

She only wishes she could convince him of that. 

  
“This is hard for you, Katara. Can’t I want to make it easier?” 

While Zuko will barely touch her with more than a brush of his hands anymore, Katara has no such reservations, and she digs her fingers into his side until he yelps in protest. “You can make it easier by remembering that your wife is perfectly capable of caring for herself, pregnant or not.” She turns to look at him and smirks. “And by giving her foot massages when she asks you to.” 

“I never doubted that, Katara.” She’s teasing, but his tone and expression are entirely serious. Her own soften at his sincerity. 

“And I never doubted you, either,” she tells him, her hands gentle against his arm. “I know that this is hard for you, but I want you to know that you have absolutely nothing to prove to me. You hear me? Nothing.” 

“Katara…” 

“Zuko.” She rises on her toes to kiss his scarred cheek. “Nothing. Remember that.” 

He’s reluctant but he nods, biting back words. “Okay.”

Satisfied with his concession, Katara leans her head against his shoulder as they turn into the corridor which contains their bedchambers. “I’m fine.  _ She’s  _ fine.” She takes his hand and guides it to her stomach for emphasis, and something in her melts at the wonderstruck way he still looks down at her even after seven months. “We’re  _ all  _ going to be fine.” 

They’re standing in front of their doors now, but Zuko makes no move to open them. Instead, he steps around and in front of her, and before she can ask what he’s doing he kneels in front of her, pressing his forehead to her stomach. This is far from the first time he’s done this and Katara knows, instinctively, to stroke his hair - it’s gotten long, she notes with fondness - as he rests here, grounding himself. But it feels  _ different,  _ somehow - more meaningful. She wants to ask why but she doesn’t dare disturb the moment, so she lets her eyes flutter shut and her heart flutter like a teenager’s when she feels the press of his lips against the fabric of her dress where it falls over her abdomen. 

“Okay,” he repeats, his warm breath ghosting her skin through the fabric. “Okay.” 

“Okay,” she echoes, unsure what else to say. “We’re okay.” 

“Yeah.” Neither knows why they feel the need to keep responding to each other when they don’t really have anything to add, but the silence is too heavy to carry so they break it up with words. Almost immediately after, though, Katara sprawls out lengthwise on their bed with a contented sigh, and Zuko gives her the questioning look she’s become so familiar with lately.    
  
“Yes, I do still want that foot massage,” she tells him, and he is all too happy to comply. 

  
  



End file.
